Tumbl'd 3: Forever TAZ - Chapter 13 - InterNutter - The Adventure Zone (Podcast) [Archive of Our Own]
Content warning: Horrible shitty orphanage, some gross medical stuff, implied child neglect.
[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 5]
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Tumbl'd 3: Forever TAZ - Chapter 12 - InterNutter - The Adventure Zone (Podcast) [Archive of Our Own]
In this chapter: BB Magnus and BB Taaco Twins meet
Magnus was in a comfortable pocket of warm and, just for a moment, he had to wonder how he got it. Then his noggin caught up with his waking senses and he remembered. He had a room of his own. He had a bed. He had a new family.
…and speaking of…
Dad Johaan was singing. “…the world says hello… you twinkle above us, we twinkle below…” some notes happened thanks to the pots and pans in the kitchen.
Magnus stretched in his bed just because he could. He dislodged his plushie dog in the process. That tore it. He had to get up. Not that that was a horrible thing any more. There was no more yelling. No more being bad.
He padded out to the bathroom and enjoyed free access to facilities that were once rigidly controlled in the foster homes. Soap. Warm water. Kind people who talked about how he made mistakes and how they could all work to make the next time better. He had hit the big time.
Dad Johaan was mixing up stuff in the kitchen as he sang. Magnus joined into the song. “…sabba sibby sabba, nooby abba nabba, le le lo lo…”
Dad Johaan smiled, snagging out the helper stool with a foot and putting the batter bowl down before handing the whisk to Magnus. This was the best, keeping the goo moving while one of his dads worked on the next bit.
“What do you reckon, little man? What’s the best pancakes this morning?”
“Bacon pancakes, makin’ bacon pancakes,” Magnus sang.
“Take some bacon and ya put it in a pancake,” Dad Johaan joined in.
Papa Avi emerged, all rumpled and hanging on to his PJ bottoms, “Bacon pan-caaaaaaakes…” He found the drawstring at last and did it up. “I have to say that there is such a thing as too much bacon, short stuff. You gotta have two berry pancakes for every bacon pancake you eat, buddy.”
“You need vitamin C,” added Dad Johaan. “I didn’t go to a nutrition course to have you, only to feed you bacon twenty-four sev.”
Magnus said, “I can eat like twenty-one pancakes,” as if he really could. He knew what his dads were going to say, so he joined the chorus. “One at a time, little man.”
“I gotta shower, you okay, babe?”
“I think I can survive,” said Dad Johaan. The instant Papa Avi left his sight, he play-acted at growing weak. “Oh no. The love of my life is gone from my sight. My vitality… fading…”
A voice from the bathroom, “Oh give over!” Water started running and Papa Avi started rendering I Will Always Love You. In this case, render, as in to tear asunder. Papa Avi had a terrible singing voice.
That didn’t stop Dad Johaan smiling goopily at it anyway. Magnus was allowed to help with the pancakes, but not the bacon. It spat and neither of his dads wanted him getting fat burns from that. That didn’t stop Magnus hovering like a vulture as the bacon fried inside puddles of syrup.
When Dad got stung, all he had to say was ‘ow’. Magnus had only wondered out loud, once, how much it could really hurt. He’d made the mistake of saying that it couldn’t hurt more than the cigarettes had and Dad had cried almost all day. When Papa came home, he’d heard from Dad and then there had been hugs all night.
Magnus decided not to mention what the old foster homes had done with him, any more. His dads were happier that way.
The bacon pancakes were slightly smaller than the berry ones, and Magnus wanted to complain about that. Bacon was his favourite food group, after all. He wanted to complain, but he wasn’t brave enough to do that yet.
Papa came out again, this time crisp in a fresh uniform and messing with his tie. He looked at the yield and said, “Those bacon pancakes are a little small. Better let him have an extra one when he’s nearly done, eh?”
“YAAAAYYY!” Magnus jumped at the news. Any morning with extra bacon was a good one.
Dad had a travel mug of coffee and a breakfast burrito for Dad, and the lunchbox they had all packed that night. It had some special envelopes inside, with messages from Dad and Magnus each.
“Go get the bad guys, Papa.”
“Try my best, squirt,” Papa ruffled his hair and picked Magnus up for the best bit of every morning. The squish.
Dad and Papa hugged, with Magnus squished in the middle and the world was going to be wonderful for a whole ‘nother day. The only thing that made it better was making sure all the cheeks were smooched, which was another morning ritual.
Breakfast and school and all the other stuff was okay, but this? This was the best.
[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 2]
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TAZ Balance spoilers within! I posted this on my twitter as well, but here’s the Adventure Zone animatic I made over the past month! Huge thanks to the McElroy’s for creating such a wonderful story and giving me the inspiration to go through with this. Hope you enjoy!
The coffeepot in the fantasy percolator had been allowed to boil almost to dry. Merle stared as Taako refreshed the coffee grounds and filter, and filled the boiler with more water. It was nine at night, and Taako shuffled towards his bedchamber.
“Uh. You didn’t clean out the pot,” said Merle.
“Shyeah. Duh. I want some really strong fuckin’ coffee, my dude.”
“That’s gonna be almost boiled dry by the morning,” he warned.
“That’s my plan.”
He got up early enough to see Taako stumble out of bed and refresh the grounds and filter again before adding even more water to the fantasy percolator before re-crashing onto the couch.
“Just how many more times are ya gonna do that?”
Taako gave him the finger.
Snocoun Ton, rooming with Magnus for reasons, emerged from her bunk and busied herself with some seemingly random things. A middle-sized pot, some tea leaves, herbs and spices, a healthy chunk of lemon. All of that went into the pot and she added a lot of water.
She set that on the hotplate to boil.
“That’s… not how you make tea,” said Merle, feeling weak at the knees.
The fantasy percolator finished its current round and Taako rose from his near-coma. He stirred up the hellaciously caffeinated mess and poured the resultant thick, black mess into a large mug with the legend, Yes, I do need this much coffee.
Next, while Sno was poking herbs in her boiling water, he approached the sugar bowl. He extracted two lumps with the delicate tongs and poured the rest of the cubes carefully into his pitch-black mud.
Sno’s concoction was so aromatic that it offended the wallpaper, and she poured hers into an equally large mug that read, Warning: undertow.
Neither Taako nor Sno looked at each other as both raised their mugs to their mouths, and drank.
The world closed in as Merle’s legs gave out from under him. He never felt the fall. All he knew was that his head stung and Magnus was leaning over him. “You okay, old man?”
“I dunno what’s got him fussed,” said Taako from the kitchen as he put on a new pot of coffee for the same cycle all over again. “I’m just havin’ my coffee an’ Sno’s having her fuckin’ tea.”
“…the horror…” Merle gasped. “…the horror…”
[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 2]
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Tumbl'd 3: Forever TAZ - Chapter 9 - InterNutter - The Adventure Zone (Podcast) [Archive of Our Own]
In this chapter: more of the aftermath of the luume episode that made Taako a deity.
TAZ Prompts Remaining: ONE
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[AN: You did read the same story I wrote, right? I can’t cement that kind of Lucas with Sno. However…]
She wasn’t his type. He knew it. She was a ‘column’ while he preferred an ‘hourglass’. Even then, the ones in meatspace were never ‘hourglass’ enough for his fancy. If only he could make animation real… But that was still beyond his scientific grasp.
In the meantime, real women confounded him. They never had the same rule set from girl to girl. They never followed The Game, they never acted like they should. They were never predictable.
Especially this one. Snocoun Ton. She was the exact opposite of everything he wanted in a woman. Flat where he expected shape. Tall where she should have been short. Possessing opinions where she should have been agreeable.
Yet he could not stop thinking about her.
That low fire in her eyes, like a wild storm. Energy waiting to be unleashed, and held back by the thinnest of facades. She exuded unresolved tension and he could sense that it was aimed at him.
He tried to take his mind off it by watching some previews on his computer. She’d never call him back. They never did, and he never minded. Usually, a good half hour’s exposure to proper women - animated women - would scour his brain clean of even thinking about the lady he had been with that night.
Not this time.
This time, the previews included one about history. Sort of. Historical fiction about the xenophobia wars and a Beach Elf torn between two or more loves. The dates couldn’t be right. The Xenophobia wars ended four hundred years ago, but this was set four hundred years ago and was about how they started.
Lucas did some googling and journeys through an extended wiki walk and learned…
She had been right.
She looked just like the maiden in the anime…
The producers had done a lot of homework to set this one in a plausibly accurate time and place. Where things could have taken a different path, if only…
In this show, Fires in Elfington, they bragged about how it was the first Humanman drama to cast Elves in a sympathetic light inside of five hundred years. Lucas absorbed all the extra material they had around on the internet and even managed to catch the premier episode.
He was even more enraptured than before. All they had to do was change the heroine’s hair from deep plum to a fiery red and she would be the spitting image of Snocoun Ton.
Inspired, Lucas decided to see what was available online about her. Just to sate his curiosity and realise that she was not an animated girl come to life.
Oh shit. She might be.
She fought injustice at every turn. Just like the animated Syn’amon. She struggled against oppression and prejudice, just like Syn’amon. She did everything she could for lost, abandoned, or orphaned kids. Just like Syn’amon. She let opportunities for advancement slide by for the greater good… just like Syn’amon.
By three AM, Lucas had seen the second episode of Fires in Elfington, and had developed a raging crush. Not just for Syn’amon, but also for her true flesh doppelganger, Snocoun Ton.
The next dawn saw him scouring the internet for material - any material - about episode three. He was so desperate that he was trawling through the fanfiction already springing up about the show.
Then he found an interesting article. The show creators had looked to real world examples for their characters and… there was a picture of Officer Ton with a small child carried in her coat right next to a picture of Syn’amon nursing a bear cub in a similar pose.
He read every word and saved it into his growing fandom file. No wonder Officer Ton looked like Syn’amon. She was Syn’amon.
When he finally went to sleep, he dreamed of her. Skipping through the mangroves like her animated counterpart, fighting evil. Righting wrongs. Rescuing him and falling in love…
It was a glorious dream.
It was so influential on him that he felt he had to make amends. A big bunch of flowers, for sure. Ladies loved flowers.
He tracked down her precinct offices and asked to see here as soon as it was convenient. She was likely out, busy being a hero. Whilst not exactly rescuing bear cubs from forest fires, she was certainly rescuing the weak and helpless from the forces of terror. Even if they were the more mundane ones, like domestic abuse or fights between different adults. Or saving them from gangs or kissing some guy by the vending machines - what?
He was a stringbean of a fellow. Dark grey skin, pale, pale blond hair.
She looks so different when she smiles like that… he thought. Then, as his brain caught up with current events, Is that my executive assistant?
Officer Ton noticed him, and the smile fell off her face. In an instant, a professional mask was in the place of genuine emotion. It was an expression eerily similar to the one she had worn on their date, the previous evening.
Realisation hit him like a bucket of cold, stale vomit. Oh… He offered the flowers anyway and said, “I came to apologise for being a jerk,” he said. “You were right. You were right about everything. I’m sorry.”
“Uh. Thanks,” said Officer Ton.
Mukaara was wearing casual nerd, instead of the suit he wore on the job. His T-shirt said, I’m not stupid, I’m not expendable, and I’m not going. The jeans he had on were headed slowly towards being disreputable. “Is there a problem at the office, sir?” he said.
Lucas fought with his newfound ethics. He could make one up that would keep Mukaara busy for hours on end, and therefore gain some time with Officer Ton, but… She would not appreciate the ruse. “No,” he said, realising that she could also plausibly kick his ass as well. “I just… I just came to say sorry. I’ll be… working on some stuff by myself. You know how it goes.”
“Have fun, sir,” said Mukaara.
Lucas spent a moment in heartsore agony watching his assistant kiss his crush. Her ears actually flirted with being veretical when she was with him. At all other times, they were pointed down. She was happy. With Mukaara. Not him. “You too,” he said, and meant it.
It was a strange creature that shambled back to his lab to noodle on his random projects. He looked like Lucas Miller, he answered to that name. In all ways but the metaphysical, he was Lucas Miller. Except…
Something enormous had changed. Something profound had altered his soul.
He had found… courtly love; and he was going to use it to change the world.
But first… he just had to order that Syn’amon body pillow cover from Geeklord dot com.
[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 2]
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Tumbl'd 3: Forever TAZ - Chapter 7 - InterNutter - The Adventure Zone (Podcast) [Archive of Our Own]
In this episode: The origin of bb Magnus.
[AN: *stimming, not stinking. Three Bronx Cheers for autocorrect]
Angus McDonald, fresh adoptee of the Fangbattles, skipped into his new class as if he was walking on air. When he walked out, it was under a metaphorical raincloud and the hunch-shouldered attitude of someone who would much rather be condemned to death than go back into that one room again.
Of course the twins noticed in a cold second, homing in on easy tells like a sudden stillness and quiet in a formerly exuberant boy. Gone was the happy, infodumping chatterbox and in his place was a sullen doppelganger. A ghost that the family had thought they banished with love and encouragement.
Koko and Lulu took him in between them and made an Angus Sandwich with each twin as half of the ‘bun’. They tried purring for him. They tried gently twining the curls of his hair. They tried Being With him. They even tried getting him to blow on dandelion puffs or thistle seeds.
It was no use. Angus had become a block.
It was worse than when he’d been a ward of the orphanage. He’d retreated into himself, there, too… but they expected a modicum of interaction. This time, he’d shut off from even the safest and friendliest interactions.
Koko, the more sensitive of the twins, had tears spilling from his eyes. Fat, thick, plentiful ones that wouldn’t stop. Lulu twirled a lock of her hair and recited the silly name rhyme that used to make him giggle.
“Ango McDango dance the fandango, eat up a mango and tango with me…” she singsonged. “Your coat we can hango up over the frango, this song we have sango for you and for we…”
Not even the vaguest twitch of a smile. This was bad.
They pulled their coats up over their heads and made a sort of coat tent that shut out a lot of light and petted his hands and whispered validation into his tiny, cute, round humanman ears.
“We love you,” and, “It’s going to be okay,” and, “We want to help,” and, when it all got too frightening, “Please come back to us?”
Angus didn’t pet their hands, or say, “I’m okay,” even when he wasn’t. He just sat there and breathed and stared at nothing. Occasionally, he would blink, but he otherwise showed no further signs of coming back out.
Not even 'painting’ his skin with the tips of their braids would lure him back into the world.
Someone tapped Koko on his shoulder. He emerged from their tent and so did Lulu. They were both in tears and beside themselves with worry. It was Miss Mak'arune. Thee nicest, friendliest teacher in the entire world.
“Did you miss the bell? It’s time to go into class.”
Angus moved. He picked up his hands from his knees and interlaced his fingers and squeezed his hands together so hard that the skin went white.
Koko put it together in two seconds. “Did you tell our Angus to have Quiet Hands?”
Lulu had her hands over her mouth. It was like finding out that the Erastide Hare ate unwary children instead of hiding colourful eggs for the spring festival. Or that Father Candles stole the toys of poor children to gift them to the rich. It just could not be possible. “You didn’t,” Lulu felt like bursting into tears and running all the way home. “Please tell me you didn’t. I thought you were nice…”
Miss Mak'arune crouched down so she was on their eye-line. “It’s policy. Noisy hands distract the other students and we have to keep everything in line so everyone can learn. It’s a simple process and it doesn’t hurt…”
Koko was on his feet in instants. “WHY DON'CHA CUT OUT HIS TONGUE 'CAUSE HE TALKS TOO MUCH?” he screamed. “IT’S THE SAME THING!” Then he scooped up Ango into his arms and ran and ran and ran. He knew Lulu would be close behind. That was the way the world worked.
They only got a mile away from the school gate before their legs flagged and the stress of everything overwhelmed them. Lulu found a pocket in the briars where they could hide and at least plot their next move or, like Koko did, just kind of fold up and cry about everything bad that had just happened.
Lulu tried to plot their next move with Koko going to pieces and Angus just… not present. They clearly couldn’t go back to school. Not with a Quiet Hands policy. They couldn’t go home. Principal Davenport would have called their Moms by now. Which meant that they couldn’t go home.
Koko cried himself out and sighed. “Well, it was a nice home while it lasted,” he said. He must have reached the same conclusion far, far sooner than Lulu had. He always went with the worst alternative first, as it saved time. “Where next? Phandalin? Halverdale? North Haverbrook?”
“Home would be nice,” said Mama Carey. Of course she’d found them. She was a Rogue, and knew every trick. Including, as evident, how to sneak up on all of them and listen in to what there was of the conversation. “But I get you’re upset. I’m listening if you wanna talk.”
Angus was still a block, and the twins babbled out everything they knew. It was just as bad as the first days, Mama. Remember when he shut down? Like a whole week and he was just… he was block Angus. Not doing nothing, you remember? It’s happening again 'cause of how they made him do Quiet Hands. It’s evil, Mama. That school is straight up evil.
Lightning briefly crackled behind her teeth. Mama Carey took ten deep breaths and walked off to make a few Stone calls.
“Mama’s here,” Lulu tried. “She’ll keep you safe like last time. Remember? Mama and Mom kept you outta the bad place.”
Angus’ eyes moved, very briefly. He was hiding deep inside, and that was his first peek back into the outside.
Mama came back. She said, “Okay. We’re all meeting up with the Principal, Miss Mak'arune, and Mom, back at the school. We’re going to sort this out for the good of all. I won’t let you get hurt again, okay?”
*
Angus rocked gently in his seat. Lulu and Koko were on either side of him and Mom and Mama were on either side of them, helping him feel safe. He still clutched at his elbows when Miss Mak'arune entered the room and whimpered a little. The twins closed up around him and Koko growled a little.
Principal Davenport sat on a desk and tented his fingers. “Let’s talk,” he said. “I understand that young Mr McDonald has had a significant upset in regards to… quiet hands…”
“It’s despicable,” said Mom Killian. “It’s teaching autistic kids that they can’t express themselves. It’s the worst of oppression.”
“We’re gonna need a week of Intensive Interaction just to get him back to normal,” said Mama.
“Intensive…?” Miss Mak'arune echoed. “I’ve never heard of anything else other than ABA… it came highly recommended in all the papers…”
“Yeah, highly recommended by all those who hate autistic kids,” said Lulu. “It’s people who believe that kids like Angus are burdens who think that that sort of stuff is actually good.”
“Look what it did to him,” said Koko. “He’s blocking the world. He’s scared to say or do anything with anyone or anything.”
“They used to do something similar when he was in the orphanage,” said Mama. “It was horrible. Horrible.”
Miss Mak'arune had gone red. Her eyes were overflowing. “Ohmygoodness, ohmygoodness,” she whimpered. “I had no idea, I’m so sorry. Angus, sweetie, I never meant any harm… I swear. I thought I was doing good. I know I was wrong. Sir. We have to learn better ways. Now.”
Principal Davenport was a man of few words. He listened to all of this with tented fingers and an intense expression. He finally said, “I agree. Let’s listen to the people who know the most about this issue. All of them.”
*
It took a month. One week for Angus to come back into being himself. Three weeks for the moms to gather some experts, books, and evidence, and create a special presentation for the teaching staff at Miller’s.
Angus was a willing participant in some of the Interaction methods. Education about what Stimming was, and meant, and how it was a means of expression for some. How to read an Autistic kid, when they didn’t always show the best of emotions or show them consistently with neurotypical means of reading.
The most important lesson, the best lesson, was that an Autistic kid didn’t have to be a burden, if one was willing to take a journey into their world.
[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 4]
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[AN: That you did. I am a dummins]
It was a beautiful town. High-class folk. Lots of beautiful things. Lots of nicely portable, small, shiny, valuable things on display for any light-fingered person happening by to help themselves.
Which was what Lulu and Koko had just been caught doing by the City Watch.
“We were just lookin’,” Lulu lied. “We’re gonna put ‘em right back.”
One of them slit open her poke. More glittering tchotchkes spilled to the cobbled streets.
“Oh my gods,” Koko attempted. “Sir, we’ve been selected as some vile footpad’s patsy! We had no idea those things were in there…”
“My babies! Oh, my babies!” A glittering, glimmering vision descended on them from a set of stairs like a cloud of glamour wrapped in feathers, rich velvet, and gleaming gold. She sailed over like a conquering galleon. She had pearls at her throat and what appeared to be diamonds in her hair.
The twins almost didn’t recognise her as shy, mousy, softly-spoken Mak’arune.
“Oh you found my poor innocent babies,” she cooed, sweeping the twins into her arms and kissing them both heartily. “Have they hurt you, my darlings?” she wheeled on the guard with the knife. “How dare you accost my babies and damage their property! Do you have any idea who I am?”
Her arrogance sold it, the guards immediately bowed and scraped, tugging at their forelocks. “No, m’m. Our apologies, m’m.”
“Your Grace,” she hissed. “I demand immediate recompence at once for your astonishingly ignorant behaviour. My babies are clearly distraught at this grievous insult.”
Lulu and Koko took the hint and burst into crocodile tears, with cries of ‘Mommy!” and accusations of gross violence.
In less than five minutes, the guards were falling over themselves to press the purloined pieces on her and the twins, and hustling them towards a fine clothier so the twins could be outfitted appropriately, “So the same mistake can’t happen again, your Grace.”
Koko had a panic attack in the changing room, cushioned against Mak’arune’s bosom and listening to her soft, parental purring. “That was so close,” he kept saying. “We nearly lost our ears. Lost our hands. Lost our lives…”
“Close only counts in Horseshoes and fireballs,” Mak’arune soothed. “Just breathe, now. We’re safe. Safe and sound.”
Lulu was still shocked and awed. “That’s the most phenomenal scam I have ever seen. What the fuck, Mak?” She smirked, “Or should I call you ‘your Grace’?”
“Mommy works,” she smiled. Luume’irma had been milder to her, but she still counted the twins as her babies. “Mommy works very well indeed.”
All the same, they didn’t even try shoplifting for the rest of their time in that town.
[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 5]
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